Through Everything
by TwistedSky
Summary: Post-2x15, because Santana deserves someone who loves her best.


I disclaim. Post-Sexy, for Santana. For Sam. Two characters who got their hearts broken. I kind of created certain facts/backgrounds for Santana, because I'm still awaiting more detailed information, hehe.

XXXXXX

Santana honestly can't believe that just happened.

She can't believe she finally told Brittany that she loves her, in the middle of the school hallway in fact, and Brittany said she's staying with Artie.

Artie's just a boy. Just a boy who wasn't supposed to matter in the first place.

Santana hurts. It just _hurts._

She's walking through the halls, trying to stop the tears that had already begun whilst she was talking to Brittany. She can't do this. She has to be strong, she can't think about how much it hurts, and how unfair it is that Brittany spent so long trying to convince her to figure out her feelings, to tell her she loved her, when she didn't want to _be_ with her.

Santana rushes past dozens of faces, she doesn't _see_ anyone, and she doesn't think they even see her.

No one ever sees her, except maybe Brittany, but even then it had never been . . . complete. Someone is always holding back, something is never quite right.

Santana meant what she said. She likes girls. She likes boys. But she loves Brittany.

She did some googling and figured out that what she is has a name. Pansexual.

Love without eyes—without gender, without race, without any of that unimportant stuff. Santana just loves Brittany, it's that simple, and things are rarely that simple for her.

Santana charges into the empty New Directions practice room and just sits down in the corner in case someone comes in. She doesn't want anyone to find her. She just buries her head against her legs.

She's made a choice though. She doesn't want to love at all. It's easier that way.

XXXX

She isn't alone for long, and at first she just thinks it's someone like Mr. Shue, or that stupid Gwyneth Paltrow lookalike who opened her up to all of these _feelings_.

But then it isn't. She senses someone sit down next to her, and it doesn't feel like Quinn, or Rachel, or Brittany, or anyone else who might care/be annoying enough to try to make it about _them_.

She doesn't lift her head, and assumes the person will just go away.

She feels a hand on her neck, sliding against her back, up and down lazily, trying to comfort her.

_Sam. _

"Didn't I break up with you or something?" She'd wanted Brittany, and she hadn't wanted loose ends.

"Yeah," He replies. "But you look like you need a friend."

"I don't," she bites out.

"I think you do," He takes her into his arms, pulling her head away from her legs and onto his chest. She wants to pull away. She should pull away. She's going to pull away.

She doesn't. She lets him hold her, and she isn't quite sure why.

She doesn't want the comfort though, so she pulls away quickly. The damage is done though. She's shown enough weakness for today.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She rubs at her eyes, trying to clean off her blurred makeup, and she thinks briefly about how she has no idea what happens next.

She doesn't have the Cheerios. She doesn't have Brittany. She doesn't even really feel like having meaningless sex. She doesn't feel like anything, really.

She has Glee. Just Glee.

She doesn't know what that means.

"Leave me alone, Evans."

"You shouldn't be alone right now."

"Why? Because I don't deserve it? Because I'm pretty much a bitch. I deserve what's coming to me," she says it, and she believes it. She didn't realize how much she believed it before. She'd never really thought about it.

And maybe that's it, she thinks. Maybe she's just not good enough for Brittany, and that _hurts._

She doesn't _know_ anymore. She doesn't know who she is or what she wants. But she's pretty sure pretty boy Sam with his Na'Vi skills aren't going to help.

She hates him. Or, well, he doesn't mean anything.

He's just nice, and she doesn't _do_ nice, so she gets up and walks away.

She doesn't turn around, or say thank you. She just leaves.

XXXX

He starts to pop up wherever she is, and it's kind of annoying, but it's also kind of nice, just to have someone there, someone who cares. She bitches, and she fights, and he keeps up with her without saying a single cruel thing to her, and it's an amazing feat that she doesn't quite understand. She suggests that he's like a golden retriever, and insults his intelligence and he just smiles and shakes his head.

She really starts to hate when he does that.

XXXX

"I hate you," she says when he brings her a gift for her birthday.

She watches as Glee Club suddenly decides to sing every possible rendition of Happy Birthday to her, and she groans.

She kind of hates that they aren't even singing to her, not really.

It's just what they do, and they all hate her.

Except maybe Sam, and that doesn't make any sense at all.

She stares at the gift into the next day, and doesn't open it, just sets it aside.

XXXX

Sam isn't really sure why he bought her that gift, except that . . . well, it made him think of her.

And she told him the truth about Quinn, which means something.

She's honest, he'll give her that.

And he—he wonders about her.

He wonders what happened to her, to make her so angry and bitter.

XXXX

Brittany apologies. Santana refuses to accept it, and angrily turns away from her touch when Brittany tries again to hug her.

Santana watches as Brittany walks over to Artie, and doesn't even notice that Sam is watching _her._

XXXX

He kind of figures it out.

He figures out why he can't stay away from Santana.

He likes her.

He _feels_ for her. He kinda gets that no one understands, and he kinda does, and he wants to be there for her.

Mostly just because no one else is.

But mostly he wants to know _more._

XXXX

"Who broke you?" Santana hears Sam ask one night. Regionals are the next day, so they'd all gotten together to practice. Finally they'd settled into a "we can't practice anymore or we're all going to kill Rachel Berry" sort of phase.

She'd been putting on her jacket, ready to walk outside.

She turns to him in surprise. "We're not friends, Sam. You don't get to ask that. No one gets to ask that." She turns and opens the door to the home they'd been practicing in. Shue was weird like that, and they were starting a bit of a tradition, apparently.

Santana doesn't really care, though it's nice to be around people—but sucky to be around Brittany and Artie.

She walks outside into the night. It's beautiful, but she doesn't notice.

The moon seems to shimmer, and the stars are twinkling. It doesn't matter.

She feels a presence at her side. She keeps walking.

She keeps walking until she suddenly realizes that he's not leaving. She turns, quickly, causing him to stop in surprise.

"Go away," she says. "What is _wrong_ with you? Should I get you arrested to creepily stalking me?" Her eyes darken and she steps closer to him. She looks directly into his eyes—which are beautiful, which creeps her out, but she doesn't think about how people's eyes are beautiful, not even Brittany's—and smiles seductively. "Or do you just wanna tap this? I can arrange that," she practically purrs.

She waits for him to back down, or to take her up on her offer.

He does neither. He just stares at her. Then he opens those froggy lips of his and says the thing she least expects. "I just want to walk you home, to make sure you're okay."

She tries not to start at that. She just kind of narrows her eyes and glares at him. "Why?"

"Because I care," he says simply.

"Why?" she can't help but ask again.

"Why not?" he retorts.

She kind of gapes at him. She just stands there, as if somehow his words will start to make sense to her.

He smiles at that and takes her arm, and she's in shock, so he kinda just nudges her along without her even thinking about it.

When he drops her off, he doesn't try for a kiss, doesn't try to come in. He just takes her hand and squeezes it. "We're going to be amazing," he says. He smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She opens her door and walks in, slamming it shut behind her, angrily.

She knows it's late, she simply doesn't care.

She waltzes up to her bedroom and sits down on her bed, unsure of what to do. She lies down on her back and stares up at her ceiling.

Eventually she drifts off to sleep, and mostly she's grateful for that, because she's tired of feeling and thinking, and she just wants everything to _stop._

XXXX

She's nervous, but she doesn't want to be. She's not a nervous sort of girl.

Sam can see her nervousness, which is weird. So when he comforts her with a hand on her shoulder, she doesn't turn to him, she just sits there.

They sit next to each other, but then the bus they're taking to Regionals finally arrives, so she stands up and gets on.

He doesn't sit next to her.

Instead he sits behind her and tosses cute little smiley face notes onto her lap.

She tries not to smile.

She does anyway.

He can see the reflection of the smile in the glass of the window next to her, so he smiles too.

And he keeps tossing little notes—writing silly poems, and drawing bunny rabbits, and telling stories.

She's 95% sure she should stop opening them up and reading them, and he's almost certain he should stop giving them to her.

They don't though.

By the time they get to the competition, she's not nervous anymore.

XXXX

"Hey," Brittany says, smiling at her.

Santana stares back at her. "I need to change into the outfit for Regionals."

"Yeah, I know."

They stare at each other until Santana calmly requests that Brittany move so that she can get into the bathroom.

"Okay," Brittany moves to the side, and Santana moves past her, trying not to feel.

It doesn't work.

XXXX

She sings, they all sing.

It's amazing.

It's an anthem, and she feels the words vibrate through her, and she wonders if she's having some sort of spiritual orgasm—but without God, because He is _so_ not the issue here.

She breathes a sigh of relief when it's over though. Then it's just time to wait.

Everyone else is freaking out, and she's just sitting there.

Patiently.

_Get it right_, she hears in her mind. Rachel's song is starting to play in her mind. She can't go back, she needs to stay and face her mistakes.

_What can you do when your good isn't good enough?_

She wonders. She doesn't know.

She watches as everyone kind of freaks out about the whole 'decisions are in' thing.

She looks out over all the people in front of them, and can't hear the announcer. She just. She can't.

She feels Brittany on her left, squeezing her hand.

She pulls her hand away. She stares ahead and focuses.

And when it's announced that they've won first place she feels tears run down her face, and she isn't really sure why.

She feels Sam on her other side, and he reaches out to squeeze her right hand. She doesn't squeeze back.

She doesn't pull away either.

As she starts to get pulled into hugs by the rest of the team—and he does too—eventually their hands unclasp.

But at no point does she feel his presence disappear.

XXXX

For now particular reason at all—even though it's late and everyone else is sleeping on the way back home—she's sitting in front of Sam again, but she turns around and starts to drop notes in his lap, and he stirs a bit. He notices what she's doing and he smiles at her in the dark before taking his phone out to use as a light to read her words.

She can see his smile illuminated by the phone, and she feels genuinely content for the first time in what feels like forever.

XXXX

The next day is a Sunday. She wakes up slightly hungover from the celebratory drinking she'd engaged in, and just decides to mope around the house all day in a tank top and sweatpants. But then she hears the doorbell ring, and suddenly she hears her mother call out for her moments later.

She makes her way downstairs and sees Sam there. She blinks at him, and her first intention is to be a complete bitch, because he just showed up uninvited, but then she just sighs. "Why are you here?"

He smiles, and then takes flowers out from behind his back. Two bouquets. He turns to her mother and hands one to her, smiling charmingly.

Santana rolls her eyes as her mother coos.

But then suddenly her mother is chatting up a storm. "Mother—" Santana says. It's not quite harsh, but it's firm. "May I talk to Sam for a moment?"

"Of course." Her mother smiles one last time and Sam, and smells her flowers as she walks into the kitchen to get a vase.

Sam smiles at her, and tries to hand her the flowers. "I brought you flowers."

She just stares at him, and crosses her arms around her chest. "Yeah?"

His smile disappears slightly at that, and he looks at her seriously. "Go out with me. As friends. Today?"

She just stares at him. "What if I have plans?"

"I heard you tell Mercedes yesterday that you don't." He just smiles again at that.

She hates his smile. She hates how sweet he is, and how he's trying to be her friend.

Then again, she doesn't have many friends, so why not? She thinks about it. "Fine,"she sighs. "I have to get dressed. I need fifteen minutes." She grabs the flowers from him, stalking upstairs.

Sam is slightly surprised at that, because Santana never struck him as the kind of girl who would leave the house without spending hours in front of a mirror. Not that he thinks she needs it. But yeah.

But when she comes back downstairs fourteen minutes and 47 seconds later, he gets why. She's beautiful.

It's scary how beautiful she is. He feels his heart start to pump in his chest, and he just tries to focus. He smiles. "Let's go."

She narrows her eyes. She's wearing jeans and a form-fitting tee with her favorite leather jacket. "I assume my outfit is acceptable for our . . . "

"Outing," he suggests.

"Outing," she agrees. "Well?" she stares at him expectantly, shrugging her shoulders. "Where are we going?"

XXXX

He takes her to a cute little café for a nice brunch.

He pays, but only because he insists that as it's _his_ plan, he should pay.

He takes her to a carnival, and she swears she's never laughed because of so many bad jokes before.

She decides that the self-deprecating thing is both cute and worrisome. He's so self-assured though that she doesn't really think she needs to worry about it. And it's not her responsibility to worry about him, she reminds herself.

He wins her a stuffed animal, and then holds it when she decides to win_ him_ one, which she does, of course.

In the end she has a purple elephant named Fluffy, and he has a pink rabbit named Sparkles, and it's kind of adorable.

They sit them down next to each other and Santana smiles as Sam hands her a churro. She loves the sugary rush, and she blushes slightly despite herself. Most people don't love churros unless they're right in front of them, otherwise they forget they exist. Santana craves them all the time.

She's always kind of been that person though. She's the girl people don't really think about unless she _makes_ them think about her, something she's gotten used to doing.

She looks at Sam and can't help but smile. "Having fun?" he asks.

Her smiles drops away. "Of course not," she says seriously. "We haven't had ice cream yet. What kind of date _is_ this?"

"So it's a date now?"

She glares at him. "No, that's not what I—"

He leans forward over the picnic table and kisses her gently.

He pulls away quickly, and Santana thinks that that kiss was definitely different from the others they'd shared before—before Brittany. "You're right. We need ice cream."

They take their stuffed animals all the way to the ice cream parlor, and this time Santana pays, just because she can, and he gets strawberry, and she gets butter pecan.

She can't believe the unbelievable amount of times he's made her smile, and she doesn't really like to think about it. It's scary and terrifying, and she feels like she has butterflies in her stomach, and she hates butterflies. Maybe. Kind of. Well, not really, but they scare her.

When she presses her lips to his outside of her house though, the giant stuffed animals seem to be awkward bystanders, and suddenly Santana thinks about this and giggles. The mixture of a bright day, and the win of the day before, and the blend of strawberries and butter pecan is a strange one, but lovely just the same. The giggle causes her to pull away, and she _swears_ she doesn't snort. "I hate you," she says, just for good measure, but she's smiling.

He looks at her. "I hate you too," and he leans forward, and there may or may not be an eskimo kiss involved.

XXXX

Two weeks later Santana is beginning to wonder _why_. She doesn't know why he cares, or why he's so nice to her, so she builds up her resolve and just asks him randomly in the hallway. She just walks up to his locker and blurts out the question.

"Because," is his answer. She starts to glare at him, because it's a pretty terrible one. "Because when we made out a while back, that was hot. Because sometimes you want to smile, but you can't, because you're trying to be all broody and bitchy, so your eyes light up," he reaches up to stroke her face. "Because when you told Brittany you loved her, you were brave, and amazing, and you didn't go right back to sleeping with any guy who knew how to make it hurt, make _you_ hurt. Because you loved Brittany, and she broke your heart, and I thought you needed a friend."

Santana just stares at him, and steps back. "Those are really stupid reasons." She turns around and runs off.

Sam considers following her, but he doesn't, because the bell rings, and Santana is seemingly making her way into the girl's bathroom, and he's not really welcome there, not really.

XXXX

Sam isn't really sure, honestly. He isn't really sure why he worries about Santana, except that she seems lonely.

He knows what it feels like to be lonely, and he realizes that there are different kinds of loneliness, but either way you're still alone, and that's hard.

She makes him feel a little less alone, weirdly enough.

XXXX

"Who broke you?" Sam asks again a few days later, after the moment in the hallway.

He's pretty sure they're doing this all wrong, that this friendship/relationship makes no sense. But it's like he can't help but want to help, and she can't help but need him.

It feels nice to be needed—even if the person in question doesn't _want_ your help.

"Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Golden Boy." She glares at him, and she redirects her eyes to the screen upon which they'd been watching some thriller film, one that wasn't particularly good, to be honest. But they'd had a deal, and she's not even quite sure who picked this film, because it's just really bad. Not that that matters, because she just wants to avoid talking to him, because she has nothing to say.

Sam's hand reaches up to stroke her head. "Talk to me."

Santana doesn't want to do that. "No."

And at that Sam pulls away. He stands up, grabs his jacket and just stares at her. "I can't do this right now. I can't—I just. I can't."

"Fine," Santana crosses her arms. "Just go."

And he does, and she doesn't want to let herself _feel_ anything.

She does anyway.

XXXX

The next day she goes to school and wants to talk to Sam, she _needs _to talk to Sam.

But then suddenly Brittany walks up to her and kisses her, right on the mouth, and Santana is shocked.

She pulls away in time to see a hurt look on Artie's face—but not in time to see the look on Sam's face before he turns and walks right back down the hallway he'd come from.

"What was that for?" Santana stares at Brittany.

Brittany smiles. "I love you. Artie and I broke up. We can be together now."

Santana knows that Brittany can be clueless, but she's not letting this one go. "No."

Brittany's smile fades. "Why not? I thought we would have lady kisses again. I don't understand."

"I don't want to be your second choice," Santana replies honestly.

It's at that moment that she realizes how much Brittany's rejection and Sam's friendship have changed her.

Brittany blinks in confusion. "I thought we would adopt a stork together and wait until it brings us a baby. I thought we'd grow old together and visit the plastic fairy when we got wrinkles."

Santana swears that Brittany has never seemed so delicate, so childlike to her before.

The worst part is that Santana feels like crying. "When did you decide you wanted happily ever after with me?"

Brittany shrugs. "Artie and I watched a movie, and we were talking about fate, and I said that you were my soulmate. He broke up with me."

Santana just stares at Brittany. She's waiting for a feeling of relief, for some sort of feeling that makes sense.

Then she gets it. "Why?"

"Because—" Brittany trails off. "You're my best friend."

"And?"

Brittany shrugs. "I want to be with you. I love you."

Santana reaches her hand out, placing it on Brittany's. She leans forward, kissing her friend's cheek. "If you could do it again, would you do it differently?"

"Do what? Break up with Artie sooner?" Brittany seems to think about it. "No."

"Why?" Santana asks, and it doesn't even really hurt.

"Because I love Artie."

"And?"

"I love him more than I love you."

That hurts, more than she wants to admit, but Brittany's innocence brings truth, so Santana just kind of sighs with relief. "You're my best friend, Brit. But we—we had a chance. And it's gone now. Because I don't want to settle, and you shouldn't either. You should tell him that," she cups Brittany's cheek with her hand.

XXXX

She isn't ready to talk to anyone about anything. She goes up to her room and starts to throw things around.

She isn't sure what she's looking for. She carefully moves the book she pressed one of the last flowers from Sam's bouquet in, and doesn't even bother to try not to smile. She sets the book next to Fluffy. She's beginning to wonder why she decided to use a random word choice thing on her phone to decide the names for the animals, but she also kind of thinks it's sweet.

Santana doesn't do sweet, but she's making an exception for Sam.

She shakes herself free of her reverie and goes back to searching. She finds the little box she decided to keep the little scraps of paper from the trip to Regionals in. She smiles and keeps looking.

Finally she finds what she's looking for and she sighs with relief and stops mentally—and occasionally verbally—cursing the Universe.

She opens up the little bag that Sam had given her for her birthday.

She opens it up, unsure of what she'll find.

She finds two necklaces, with little charms. "Friends," she reads. "Thing 1 and Thing 2."

She smiles.

She notices that they aren't particularly girly, and that makes her happy. They're just small and intricate, on chains that aren't too fancy or too cheap.

She puts one on, and puts the other in her pocket. She stands up and looks around at her room.

She'll have to clean it up later.

She waves at Fluffy—just because she can—as she leaves.

XXXX

She knocks on the door, and Sam opens it.

She smiles nervously.

He doesn't smile back.

She just sighs then and simply asks,"Can I come in?"

"Sure," he says, as she starts to barge in anyway. "It's not like I could stop you."

She looks around, "In the past few months you've given me more gifts—that I've kept too—than any other person I've ever know except family."

He blinks. "Okay."

She smiles slightly at his confusion. "I've figured out a lot of things."

"Good for you," he says, still closed off to her.

She refuses to get frustrated so early in her appeal. "I'm not a lesbian, I'm not straight. I don't want to be labeled by other people. I'm . . . pansexual. I just—I want to love and be loved."

Sam's face softens slightly, and Santana uses that to boost her courage.

"I can be a bitch. I can make someone's life a living hell without remorse," she says. "But you were nice to me."

Sam just shrugs. "I don't have to explain myself to you, I already have."

Santana smiles slightly. "I do though."

She puts her hand into her pocket and pulls out the other necklace, holding it out for him to take it. "You were my friend. You _are _my friend. And you're—you're more than that. I'm falling in love with you," she doesn't say fallen, because she's not ready, and she doesn't want to lie.

She wants to be completely honest. "I don't know why, honestly. You're a dorky Na'Vi-speaking, Justin Bieber-haircut-having guy. But I am."

Sam takes the necklace from her, and puts it around his neck. "I'm falling in love with you too," he says. "And it doesn't make a lot of sense, but it works. And I really, really like you."

Santana smiles, and suddenly everything is okay.

She feels something click into place, and then suddenly Sam's lips are on hers, and her arms are around his neck, and she's happy.

And when they drift to his room they don't have sex, they stare up at his ceiling, where he's posted all of the little notes up there, even the slightly naughty ones.

"I still hate you, kinda," she says.

"Me too," he replies.

It's not quite over.

XXXX

"My dad hates me," Santana says suddenly, after about an hour of spooning and talking about Brittany and Quinn, and how all of that mattered, but it doesn't change anything between them.

Sam doesn't interrupt, he lets her speak.

"I'm never really good enough, you know? I needed to be sexier, so I got implants. I wanted to be smarter, so I studied really hard, and I might actually manage to get into a good college, but I can't really tell anyone about that."

He strokes her stomach and breathes lightly against her neck.

It just feels nice.

"And the reason I don't talk about it is because it hurts."

"He broke you, along with every over douchebag you've dated," Sam says, finally getting it. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Santana replies. She turns around in Sam's arms, looking into his beautiful eyes. "But it's easier when you don't have to feel."

Sam kisses her forehead. "I know. But easy isn't always right. And you don't have to pretend with me."

Santana smiles slightly. She kisses him lightly on the lips, and pulls away. "I don't want to. I'm just, I'm tired of . . . " she drifts off, unsure whether she wants to keep going.

"Being alone?" he suggests.

Santana looks at him in surprise. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because I get it," he admits. "I've felt that way for most of my life. No matter where I am, no matter how many people are around, I feel completely alone."

"I—" Santana isn't sure what to say, because she's still not used to this 'emotion' thing.

"It's okay," he kisses her on the cheek, and they just lie there, looking at each other until they drift off to sleep.

XXXX

A few hours later Sam wakes up from his nap, surprised to see Santana sitting up, on her phone as if her life depends on it. "What's wrong?"

She leans over, and whispers in his ear. In Na'Vi. _You are my beloved._

He smiles into her neck. He plants a kiss against her jawline as he moves around to look her in the eyes. "Thank you."

XXXX

Nothing has really changed, not really.

New Directions has won Regionals, and they're preparing for the next competition, for Nationals.

Sue still hates Glee Club, and really hates that she lost to them.

Kurt is still at Dalton, and Quinn is still pretending that she's only using Finn to become Prom Queen.

Rachel is completely set on Nationals, and doesn't even notice when Puck and Lauren break up because Lauren realizes that she's just an excellent distraction.

Mike and Tina are still a couple, Artie and Brittany have reconciled.

But Sam and Santana have matching Dr. Seuss charms—and more importantly they have each other. Sam reveals that Santana's strange love of stripes made him do some research, and he'd discovered her love of Cat in the Hat.

Sam doesn't really question the weird pull he'd felt to Santana ever since he was dating Quinn, how he'd given Quinn a promise ring because she kind of made him feel like he could belong and not because she really made him feel like he _did_ belong.

He doesn't question the love he feels for Santana when she butchers Na'Vi, or when he realizes that he didn't choose Santana, and she didn't really choose him, because they just kind of _fit_ together.

And she doesn't question that when she's with him things hurt less, and she doesn't feel angry all the time. And when he convinces her to make up with Brittany she does, and she doesn't regret it.

Mostly they just enjoy being in love.

XXXX

A few weeks later they lose at Nationals, but it's okay.

Sam weirdly gets Santana a camera as a "hey, we lost" present, but she doesn't try to understand, she just kisses him instead.

XXXX

Senior year means college applications, and they make a deal not to ask, not to decide based on each other. They apply, they hope, they worry.

They aren't Prom King and Queen—but that's okay, because they don't want to be. They already belong to each other, so they don't have to pretend anymore.

They win Nationals.

They submit their letters of intent.

They both choose schools in New York—Sam is just a lot smarter than he looks, so he's going to Columbia. Santana is going to NYU, because she's discovered a love for film.

They're ecstatic.

XXXX

Halfway through freshman year they break up—not because either has cheated, or because they don't love each other, but because they can't keep doing this. They have to grow up.

They're still best friends though, weirdly enough, and neither one of them really realized that happening, but it's true.

XXXX

The day that Sam graduates from college, Santana is there.

After the ceremony she walks up to him and hugs him. "I love you," she says.

"I love you too," he says.

"I don't want to pretend, Sam."

"I don't either."

XXXX

They move to California.

They get an apartment, and they're working, he's a writer now, and she's working her way up to become a director.

They get a puppy.

XXXX

Rachel is a Broadway star, and Puck has a recording contract. They get married, and everyone's invited.

Lauren has a sex tape, and is on some sleazy reality show.

Brittany marries on a whim, so there's not a wedding to really be invited too—just pictures that show that neither of them were really drunk, just happy.

Kurt meets a guy at Rachel and Puck's wedding.

Finn marries Quinn, and they never leave home, not really, but that's okay, because Quinn is a doctor, and Finn is a stay-at-home dad. And it kind of works.

Mike and Tina stay strong, always, and have what they call a "Very Asian Wedding"—and the caps are important they insist before giggling about how happy they are.

Mercedes is singing, so she's happy.

Will and Emma are married, and they have a baby—and weirdly enough it makes a lot of sense to call them Will and Emma, because everyone is like some huge extended family. Will meets a lot of new students, but he'll never forget his first Glee Club, he insists.

Sam and Santana are just happy.

XXXX

Eventually Santana proposes—the day that Sam intends on proposing, which just makes things awkward.

They laugh, and both say yes, and that's that.

Mercedes meets someone at their wedding, and that works out well.

Santana gets pregnant the night of their wedding.

XXXX

They name her Samantha.

It works for them, and it works for her.

The watch her grow, they give her a little sister. They give Sparkles and Fluffy to their little girls, and Samantha and Selena proceed to criticize their naming choices.

They watch them both graduate high school-watch Selena go art school, and Samantha follow in her daddy's footsteps.

They watch Samantha fall in love easily and many times, and Selena marry her high school sweetheart.

Most importantly, they fight, they make love, they fall deeper and deeper in love with every day.

And they grow old together.

XXXXXX

So I know this is kind of a long oneshot, but thanks for reading! Thoughts?


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